Title: Heavy Metal
Pairing: Tenth Doctor/The Master
Fandom: Doctor Who
Prompt: 82, Metal
Disclaimer: This is entirely a product of my own imagination, and I make no profit from it. I do not own the Tenth Doctor or the Master. Please do not sue.
***The Doctor took a deep breath, trying to force himself to relax. It wasn't easy to do when he was in such an uncomfortable position, but he knew better than to let the Master sense his anxiety. That was one more thing his enemy would pounce on.
He had no idea what the other man intended to do to him, but he knew that it wasn't going to be pleasant. Ever since he'd been taken captive and the Master had been able to somehow twist the Tardis to turn away from him, he'd been floundering, feeling more helpless than he ever had.
Whatever was going to happen, it had something to do with the Tardis. He'd already been apprised of that fact when the Master had brought him into this room. The other man had been talking as though this was merely a pleasant afternoon's conversation.
It was anything but that, the Doctor thought grimly, flexing his wrists above his head. They were secured with metal handcuffs that bit into his skin, the chain connected to them pulled taut through an iron loop in the ceiling. Had it always been here? He really didn't know; the Master could have outfitted this room since he'd taken over the ship.
His legs were spread, his ankles held firmly in place by cuffs affixed to similar metal loops in the floor. He was sure those had never been there before; apparently the Master had decided to make some modifications to the ship when he'd taken her over.
That was probably going to prove dangerous, the Doctor thought, a shiver moving through his thin body. Dangerous for him, at any rate.
This wasn't what he'd expected when the Master had informed him that the Tardis was going to be allowed to "have her way with him." He had no idea what the other man meant, though those words had sent a prickle of fear up his spine when he'd heard them.
What exactly did the Master mean? It wasn't as though the Tardis was capable of .... well, that wasn't something he needed to worry himself with at the moment. He was more concerned with what the Master intended to do, and how he could protect himself from the worst of it.
At the moment, he had no choice but to submit to the Master; as long as the other man held the fate of not only the Earth and all its inhabitants, but the entire universe, in his control, the Doctor couldn't do anything that might risk their continued existence.
His head jerked up when he heard the Master's footsteps approaching; it certainly couldn't be anyone else, as they were the only two beings on the ship. He had to clench his teeth and will himself not to struggle against his bonds; if the Master saw that he was agitated in any way, he would only taunt him, try his best to unsettle the Doctor even more.
The Master entered the room, his eyes fixed on the Doctor, his gaze roaming over the Time Lorld's nude body as he moved closer. The Doctor had to force himself not to drop his gaze; he wasn't going to let this man intimidate him, not this time.
But it was hard to keep himself impassive as the Master circled around him; he hated the satisfied expression on the other man's features, as though the Master was assessing him, making sure that the Doctor's nervousness grew with each passing minute.
"Well, Doctor." The Master had stopped circling him; the other man was standing in front of him, reaching out to grip the Doctor's chin and forcing the Time Lord to look directly into his eyes. "You're probably wondering just what's in store for you."
The Doctor met his rival's gaze, telling himself that no matter what he did, he coudn't show any sort of apprehension. The Master would be waiting to see any hint of weakness.
"You'll find out soon enough." The Master's voice was the aural equivalent of the smirk on his face; the Doctor wished that he could wipe that expression from the other man's face, somehow manage to turn the tables to his advantage.
Unfortunately, that obviously wasn't going to happen. He was in a more vulnerable position since the Master had taken over his ship than he'd ever been at any other time that he could remember; he'd have to tread carefully if he wanted to get out of this situation.
At the moment, he didn't see any way out. Especially not with the Master so completely in control, and circling him like a hungry wolf, eyeing him up and down as though he intended to leap forward at any moment, crushing the Doctor in his jaws. The thought made him want to shrink away, but bound as he was, he could barely move.
"You don't seem to feel much like talking, Doctor." The Master's voice held all the satisfaciton that he must feel, seeing the man he'd always wanted to subjugate bound and helpless in front of him. It was when he sounded this way that he was the most dangerous.
The Doctor certainly knew that from experience, though the Master hadn't seemed at all interested in him in a sexual way until he'd regenerated into this body. That physical desire was yet another thing that made them such fierce rivals.
Maybe there was some part of him that wanted to take them back to the earliest days of their long acquaintance -- when they'd been friends, before the Master had committed the acts that had first begun to turn the Doctor against him.
"That's because I have nothing to say," he answered, careful to keep his voice modulated. "What did you expect me to do, beg you to let me go?"
The Master's laughter rang out, a smooth, flowing sound that nonetheless grated on the Doctor's ears. "Of course not, Doctor. But I thought that you would at least be interested in what I intend to do to you. After all, knowing might make it less of a surprise."
The Doctor didn't answer that, refusing to rise to the bait. If this madman thought that it would be any easier for him to deal with whatever torture he intended to mete out by hearing about it, he'd only try to make it seem worse than it wouild actually be.
One thing he knew to expect from the Master was an attempt to break down his composure; this man wanted him to beg for mercy, to submit to him in the hopes of bringing the pain he would undoubtedly feel to an end more quickly.
He wasn't going to give this man that satisfaction. No matter what the Master did to him, he wouldn't beg; he'd done that in the past, but this time, he was determined to stand his ground and not give this megalomaniac what he wanted. No matter what the cost to him, he couldn't break down, couldn't give in. Not when so much was depending on how strong he could be.
But it wasn't going to be easy, he knew that. The Master would push his limits as far as he could, and then try to break down those barriers. He'd almost succeeded before, too many times to count, and the Doctor knew that he coudn't hold out against that pressure forever.
"Maybe this will make you a bit more talkative -- or at least get you to at least make a sound," the Master murmured, reaching a hand into his pocket and bringing out something that the Doctor couldn't see, then running a hand down the Time Lord's chest.
He coudn't keep himself from drawing in his breath in a gasp when the Master's warm fingers tweaked one nipple -- then letting out that breath in a soft cry as a metal clamp closed on the taut flesh, sending a quicksilver flash of pain through his body.
The Doctor bit down savagely on his lower lip as the process was repeated on his other nipple; the Master moved back a few steps, cocking his head as though he was admiring his handiwork.
"I wouldn't have thought it was possible for you to look any more attractive than you already do," he said, his tone musing as though he was contemplating something that he wasn't yet ready to reveal. "But those nipple clamps definitely add to the picture."
Moving closer again, he stroked his fingertips down the Doctor's cheek, smiling into the Time Lord's face. "I'm going to enjoy this, Doctor," he purred. "Every movement you make while you're struggling, every scream, every whimper. Music to my ears."
The Doctor didn't want to look this devil in the eye, didn't want to let the Master read any fear that might be lurking in those dark depths. But the other man was grasping his chin again, forcing their eyes to meet. And he was terrified of what he saw in the Master's eyes; not hatred, exactly, but an enmity that ran strong and deep.
Some might argue that he'd brought this on himself, but he'd had no choice but to make an enemy of this man. Not only because of what had happened so long ago, but because of what the Master had become in all the centuries they'd faced off against each other.
He would never be able to look at this man as anything but a mortal enemy again. And somehow, he had a feeling that the worst confrontation of their long battle was still to come -- and that he was going to suffer more than he'd ever thought possible before it happened.
"The Tardis has probably been waiting for a long time for this day," the Master purred, his gaze still locked on the Doctor's face. "Finally, after all this time, to let her dark side have free rein. I've brought that out in her, Doctor. And once she has you -- there's no going back."
Had him? The Doctor's muscles tightened, involuntarily straining against the metal cuffs that held him captive. He really didn't want to know exactly what the Master meant by that. And whatever it was, he was positive that it boded no good for him.
***Next part of this story - Nowhere To Run.